


The Last Good Day of the Year

by Talullah



Series: Lindir/Rúmil [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:23:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindir misses his lover and learns a few things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/132238694@N03/24402870798/in/dateposted-public/)   
> 
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

**Imladris, 2518 TA, Late Firith**

Dearest one,

I have missed you terribly. Each day that goes by, I become more certain that I made a terrible, irretrievable mistake and I regret it bitterly. Though I hope that one day you may forgive me, this hope grows fainter as I have no word from you year after year.

Physical distance is nothing compared to this absence, to knowing that I have hurt you and that you resent me still. Your silence cuts me to shreds. Doubt invades me: have you forgotten me? Has all the love we once had left your heart? These questions and such others surround me, pervade every action, every thought I have. They weave a shroud of sadness that covers my life.

In a few days it will be ShadowFest again. It is in this time of year that I miss you the most. I remember the time when we met as the beginning of happiness. That afternoon -- do you remember it still? The first time we first kissed under the bright sun of Firith. If life could be frozen in a single moment, for me it would be that one. Were we foolish to think back then that happiness would never leave us?

I regret my hasty words against the Lady Galadriel. I had no right. She has only ever shown kindness towards us both. I hope that one day you can believe that I am sincere in my regret.

Meanwhile, I will live my grey, dull life, hiding inside, feeding on the memories of better days. Of our first night together. Of all those dawns when you tried to sneak out of our room to your patrol without waking me, but I would never let you go without a kiss. Sometimes more than that... We were happy then.

* * *

Lindir set his quill on the inkpot and reclined. He stared vacantly at the window in front of his desk, not noticing how the trees' branches waved violently under the lead sky. Sighing, he closed his eyes as he let one hand slip from the desktop onto the handle of the drawer. He opened it slowly and waited a few more moments before letting that piece of parchment join all the others written and never sent.

He had tried before. He had sent so many notes of apology to Lothlórien in the first years of Rúmil's absence, that he had lost count. Not once had Rúmil replied. On these days when Firith ruled, he felt lonelier and more desperate than ever.

Keeping his eyes closed, he slumped on the chair. He was not miserable all the time. He did his best to look happy, or at least well, in front of his friends; but he could not fool everyone all the time. And he could not fool himself while he was alone. Gradually, his will for life had dimmed and with each night that passed, it was harder to find the will to sing even songs of sadness.

He had learned to enjoy the small pleasures of life, and they were, for him, to let himself be submerged by sweet memories and sink in the past.

* * *

**Imladris, SA 1700**

Imladris had been effervescent upon the Lady Galadriel's arrival. Everyone wanted to see her, the living symbol of the Noldorin glory and grace. They were also proud of the home they had built in so little time and wanted to show it in its best colours. The Lady had arrived in the best possible time for this, just before the ShadowFest.

All the crops were in stored in the barns, last season's wine nearly ready for the first tasting. The weather was cold enough to light the fireplaces but the sun shone during the day and the bluest of skies made promises of an indefinite season of pristine light. The gardens were mostly naked, but looked clean and dormant, filled with latent life. Imladris shone new and full, vibrant.

The lady had come with her daughter, Celebrían, and a small escort. The escort kept to themselves at first, but at Lord Elrond's encouragement, began to mingle with the residents of Imladris.

The first time Lindir noticed Rúmil was about two weeks before the ShadowFest. It was late in the afternoon and he had been in the Hall of Fire for several hours rehearsing songs for the special night with his fellow musicians. Standing with his back toward the door, he perceived that they had a visitor by the curious glances that his friends cast toward a point behind him. He turned and there was one of Lady Galadriel's escorts . The stranger bowed his head and simply said, "I can play the lute."

Smiling, Lindir welcomed him. They had no need for another player, but this was a time to welcome everyone and cover all of their little community with a warm blanket of friendship. Over the next week, the Silvan elf proved to be fairly skilled and not at all a bad acquisition to their little group. He came to the Hall one or two hours before all the others and played alone, trying to learn the new songs.

Lindir started coming early too and they played together. Rúmil spoke sparsely and mostly about the songs they were rehearsing, but Lindir made a point of making him feel welcomed and persisted with his attempts to make small talk. He could feel a climate of amity budding between them, but still Rúmil spoke little with the others when they arrived.

Three days before the ShadowFest, Lindir arrived at the Hall of Fire to find Rúmil staring out the window. He joined him and saw that outside Glorfindel and Elrond had their falcons and were about to start a hunt. The ladies were there as well, as were some of their escorts and a few Imladris elves.

Rúmil spoke at last, "No one has come yet and I can see some of the musicians down there. I guess we will not practice today."

"Oh, no," Lindir replied. "Many of them enjoy watching the falcons and we are nearly done here. Will you not join the party?"

"No, I dislike falconry." Rúmil averted his eyes from the window and faced Lindir.

"Why?" Lindir asked surprised. Though Rúmil had proven to be a gifted musician, he saw him as more of a soldier or a hunter thus he was intrigued by this answer.

Rúmil answered slowly, weighting his words. "I prefer to be on my own, to use my skills only. Using an animal to prey on another in my favour seems wrong."

Lindir was now truly surprised. He knew many elves who were not interested in hunting but this was the first time he had encountered this particular objection. His answer sounded more as a question. "But falconry requires an appreciable amount of hunting skills too and the training of a good falcon can take years."

"Yes, that is true and I do not blame those who enjoy this type of hunt. I simply prefer not to take part in it." Rúmil looked outside once more before picking up the bag with his lute from the floor.

He looked ready to leave but Lindir wanted to talk more and to learn more about him. Trying to pick up the conversation, he offered, "To be frank, I dislike any type of hunting. I always have. I much prefer working on the land or as a herder. Have you ever tried that?"

Rúmil smiled and shook his head. "No. Ours is a forest people. We have some small patches of agricultural land but few of us do work there."

"Oh, I thought you were a city dweller, a soldier."

"Aye, at this moment I am, but I long to live deep inside a forest once more. Any other place seems barren to me." Rúmil looked outside once more, his eyes directed to the woods of the valley.

"Even this? Even Imladris?" Lindir moved closer to the window and waved his arm as if wanted to embrace the landscape that spread before their eyes.

"Imladris is nice. But it is not home." Rúmil's words sounded to Lindir more as a clumsy attempt of not insulting their hospitality than a true compliment.

Taking upon himself the task of opening Rúmil's eyes to all the beauty of his home, he insisted. "But have you taken a walk in our forests?"

Rúmil laughed. "I am sorry, but what you call forests for us are mere woods. I would like to take a walk, though, if you care to accompany me."

"Shall we ride?" Lindir offered.

"I would prefer to walk, to feel the leaves rustling beneath my feet, if you do not mind," Rúmil replied.

Lindir smiled and assented. They left and headed for the woods, in the opposite direction of the falconry group. The day was bright and sunny, though a cold breeze ran rustling the golden leaves. They could hear the voices growing fainter as they distanced themselves from the others.

Lindir breathed in the scent of the forest. "I missed this, you know. I normally keep to the House since most of my tasks are there or in the fields."

Rúmil let out a small sigh as he raised his eyes to the canopy, a mosaic of light gold and blue. "I could never live away from the forest for long, but these woods are too tame for my liking."

"Tame? How is that?" Lindir inquired. The stolid Silvan elf was proving to be an extremely interesting creature full of idiosyncratic notions under that cape of reserve.

"Well, they do not grow free. See how the forest ground is so clean? And you can clearly see that there is an ordered plan in the cutting of the trees and planting of new ones. These paths we walk in are not made by forest animals but by horses. And you have done this all in scarcely three years. Noldor!..."

"I never noticed that." Lindir suddenly felt that this elf was so free that nothing in Imladris could ever impress him. He felt the sudden urge to distance himself from that image of a strictly ordered world, but felt disloyal and petty as the words jumped out of his lips. "But I am not a Noldo."

Rúmil chuckled and replied, "So I have noticed."

They walked in silence for a while, Rúmil looking around, sometimes caressing the closer trunks, Lindir meditating on this desire to impress the Silvan elf that had surreptitiously taken over him.

"Have you family here?" Rúmil asked just when Lindir began thinking that the silence was becoming uncomfortable.

"No." Lindir sighed. "Both my parents died on the way here, in an ambush. I have an aunt in Lindon but I have not seen her in years."

"I am very sorry to hear that." Rúmil patted Lindir's back. A shiver ran down his spine at the touch. He had found Rúmil pleasant to the eye but he had discarded immediately the fugacious thought of seducing him. He had no idea what the customs of the Silvan Elves were. In fact, he had been surprised to find them polite and cheerful and well acculturate, but he would not go as far as to presume that they would be so liberal in their ways as to accept ones such as himself. On the other hand, he felt an intense desire to take on someone, anyone, and this elf was more than a treat to the eye. He had not taken a lover since their arrival in Imladris; there was little time for that, and it was a smaller community. He was not sure he could carry on with his relaxed way of living without creating a few uncomfortable situations.

He managed to ask at last, "What about you?"

"My parents still live but have sailed." Rúmil's voice betrayed no feeling, but he remained silent after that laconic statement and so did Lindir, for it was obvious that this subject would not be further discussed.

As they continued walking in silence, further into the heart of the forest, Lindir thought of ways to pick up their friendly chatting. He thought of asking about Rúmil's brothers, but the subject of family seemed a bit uncomfortable. He thought about asking him where he had learned to play the lute, but then he remembered he had asked that before and it had been his father who had taught him. He wanted to say something clever about the woods or hunting but he knew precious little and was sure that he could only utter banalities had he tried. Now the silence was really uncomfortable.

Strangely it was Rúmil who broke it. "So where have you been before?"

"I was born and raised in Eregion." Lindir almost sighed in relief. The silence was broken and the question easy.

Rúmil continued questioning, "So you are the typical city dweller..."

"Yes and no." Lindir was flattered with this interest but tried to not inflate his hopes. Rúmil could be asking out of mere politeness. Still, he could not resist elaborating on his answer. "As I have told you, I love the country, especially at this time of year. I always help in the harvests. In fact, in our first year here, everybody had to work on the land and help with building. I always preferred the land when I could choose."

"It must have been hard..." To Lindir's surprise, Rúmil still seemed interested.

"It was wonderful. Well, yes, hard too." Lindir smiled. "I had this romantic notion of life in the country but absolutely no idea on how labour intensive it could be. But it felt good. We sang all day long while ploughing, sowing, weeding, reaping under the blue sky and the scorching sun. We still do, of course, but now I have more duties inside the House and only in the harvests do I have a chance to be in the fields again."

"And besides the occasional work in the fields and music, what else do you do?" Rúmil asked with genuine interest.

"I help out with whatever is necessary," Lindir answered. "I teach music to the elflings and some history. Sometimes I help Erestor with the books or other House tasks, normally inventories."

Lindir was glad to oblige in his question, but he was starting to feel odd, under all this attention. Rúmil, however, persisted on making him the focus of the conversation. "I have seen you often surrounded by the little pests. You do love young ones, do you not? Are you planning to be a father soon?"

The Silvan elf was asking some unsettling questions, questions that Lindir could not answer to a stranger. Seeing a path to his left, he took the opportunity to change the subject. "Look, this path is almost hidden. Shall we try it?"

Rúmil nodded and followed him a few steps behind. After a moment, he insisted. "You have not answered my question."

Lindir kept walking ahead as the path was narrower. He felt compelled to produce an answer. "No, I do not plan to have children soon, though I love them dearly."

"And why is that?" This Rúmil was unnerving. Had he no manners? It was silly of him to expect more from a wood elf. He gave him another chance to drop the subject, still.

"Are you always this blunt?"

Rúmil chuckled but did not let Lindir's answer deter him. "Yes, but you are avoiding the question."

Lindir turned and faced him defiantly. "I have no desire to be married. At least not to a woman."

Rúmil stepped forward and kissed him violently. As they parted, Lindir stared in shock at the warrior. The sharp interest that Rúmil had manifested had certainly drawn his attention but he was not expecting this sudden move. The other elf apparently ignored the meaning of the word courting.

Rúmil lifted his hand and let it rest on Lindir's neck, slowly stroking his jaw with his callused thumb. "I wanted you from the first time I saw you," he said, his lips brushing Lindir's once more as he spoke.

Lindir hesitated for a second but turned away and said, "I have heard that one before."

Rúmil stood waiting but Lindir walked on. He followed him but as the trail reached its end abruptly, he grabbed Lindir by one arm and turned him, kissing him again. This time, he enveloped Lindir in his arms and walked forward until they met a trunk.

He broke the kiss and asked with the sweet smile of the hunter to his prey, "Why do I have to be original? Are the folk of the valley so sophisticated that they need their truths to be dressed in fancy clothes?"

Trying to erase that annoying self-confidence the Silvan elf had, Lindir kissed him back, but only later it occurred to him that this might not be the best way. Rúmil made him feel hunted and it felt good to be so wanted, above social conventions that he was sure the other elf knew but chose to ignore. He would have made love right then and there on the forest ground exposed to the prying eyes of any wanderer and the wood creatures, but Rúmil drew away from him.

The sun shining on Rúmil's hair produced a halo, and Lindir for a second thought that he looked like a Vala, or what they had been told of them. He was Oromë as he spoke, "I want you."

These simple words were new to Lindir. No, they had been spoken before, but this intensity was dazzling. It erased all coherent thought. He babbled something, trying to sound like the adult, sophisticated elf he was. "Yes, you have told me so."

It did not sound very impressive to him and apparently neither to Rúmil, who smiled and shook his head. He was still pressing his hips against Lindir's when he started nibbling on Lindir's ear and whispered, "Am I going too fast for a delicate city elf?"

"Yes," Lindir answered as he decided not to care about the consequences. The Silvan Elves would be gone soon, so nothing too complicated could happen. He pushed his suitor onto the forest floor, straddling him. Rúmil's shining hair fanned on the fallen leaves and the sun made his eyes look clearer. The leaves rustled as he moved to kiss Rúmil. It seemed to be the only sound in the forest besides their breathing, almost as if time had stopped on his way to watch them.

The moist dark fragrance of the wood floor enveloped them as he lay over Rúmil and buried his hands in his hair. He let his full weight fall on his lover and as he burned his lips with fervent kisses, he ground his hips onto Rúmil's.

Rúmil had the decency to look surprised but forgot about that when Lindir's hand struggled to slip inside his leggings. Lindir slipped to his side to give Rúmil some space to move, to let his desires run free too.

* * *

Emerging from his reverie, Lindir wondered how much of this memory of happier times was real, and how much was an artefact of his heart. They had been happy, despite everything. They had spent that first winter in bliss, knowing it would end soon. They never spoke words of love but in so many instances, they seemed to be just below the surface, waiting for release, lurking in the gasps made in love, in a sigh on the verge of sleep. So many sentences started with 'I...', but followed by awkward conclusions.

Having had more than a few encounters and a couple of infatuations, Lindir thought he knew love or at least knew something about it. But at the end of Rhîw, just before the ladies left, he knew that there was something more than those trysts. With Rúmil, he had felt free; he never had to prove a thing to him who had so little interest in games.

Rúmil had made a point in including him in his life. Unlike Imladris's elves, he was very open about his interest in Lindir, which was both flattering and concerning. Lindir was not very sure that his peers would approve these open displays of affection. Rúmil had introduced him to his brothers on that very day. He had called him friend, but his hand on Lindir's shoulder all the time left little margin for doubts on the nature of their friendship. His brothers had been carefully neutral but Lindir had left their rooms with an unpleasant feeling of disapproval. He could understand it -- he seriously doubted that the Silvan Elves would look with more kindness on such unions than his kindred. He had tried to be different from himself and equal to everyone else but to no avail. He felt that he had failed his parents and all the worse because he was an only child and they had longed for grandchildren.

It all had happened very fast and he had not been comfortable with the idea of discussing Rúmil's family with him. He was still surprised that the other elf had been so sure of himself. Having faced rejection in the past, accompanied by a few hateful words about his preferences, he was extremely cautious to this day when picking the ones who would warm his bed. This was a dance that every male like himself would carefully learn and execute. Surely Rúmil knew that, but at that time, it seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

Rúmil was completely different from any other lover he had ever had. He had never felt that happy, sneaking around into dark corners and kissing like there was no tomorrow, taking time as if they had all the time in the world.

* * *

Lost in his dreams of the past, he did not notice the knock on the door. The boy knocked louder and longer and Lindir eventually became aware. "Come in," he said wearily. He had no wish for visitors. It was probably one of the twins or maybe Erestor set to drag him off in some activity with the purpose of distracting him. He knew they did it out of care and affection but they made him feel like a nuisance.

The boy entered the room and said, "Sir, Master Erestor is calling you to the main hall. He says it is urgent."

Lindir raised an eyebrow. What could be urgent? He had taken on some more administrative tasks a while ago, for he had lost interest in his music and felt he needed to contribute, but he knew only too well that they could do as well without him. Still, he rose from the chair and followed the boy slowly. It never occurred to Lindir to question him because if Erestor wanted him in the main hall with no further justifications, then asking the boy would do no good.

As he reached the stairs, he heard a voice with a Lórien accent. His heart raced and he quickened his pace. The hope that Rúmil might one day write to him had never really left his heart. He reached the base of the stairway and headed straight into the hall. Erestor was there and two blond elves with their backs turned the door. His heart skipped a beat and he froze. It could not be. Not Rúmil. But the silhouette was unmistakable. The elf spoke and all doubt was erased from Lindir's mind. He stepped forward. "Rúmil!"

Both elves turned to face him. The other was Orophin, who did not look especially pleased to see him. Rúmil's face showed no change while he approached them quickly. He stopped abruptly in front of Rúmil, and after a split second of hesitation, he embraced him tightly, shutting his eyes firmly. Rúmil seemed so cold and did not return the embrace immediately, but he did not push him away either. But then again, Rúmil had never been cruel and would not humiliate him in front of Erestor and his brother.

Resigning himself to the thought that he had to let go, he did so, reluctantly. Rúmil looked down, slightly flushed, but that could have been from the ride. It was obvious that they had arrived moments before. Lindir cleared his throat but Orophin spoke first. "How have you been, Lindir?" he enquired.

Lindir felt reprimanded. "Well, thank you. And you?" He averted his eyes and turned to Rúmil. "Was your journey safe?"

Once more Orophin spoke, "Safe enough, thank you, but we are very tired."

His tone was cold. Surely Rúmil had told him all about their falling out and now Orophin's dislike for him had grown, Lindir thought. Still they had been apart over ten years, little time to their kind but still an eternity to him.

Erestor replied promptly, "Then please let me show you to your rooms for a little rest and refreshing before dinner." He started walking towards the stairs gesturing for them to accompany him. Lindir stood watching them. As Rúmil came closer, Erestor asked him politely, "Rúmil, would you like to stay in your old rooms?" Not waiting for an answer, he added smiling, "Of course you would."

Rúmil assented solemnly while Orophin glanced at Lindir, stern faced.

Lindir beamed. Rúmil's old rooms were his own. Rúmil had just consented to staying with him, though not enthusiastically. They would talk again. Lindir nodded curtly towards them and went outside, trying to contain his excitement and give Rúmil some time to settle in.

He had not noticed that a storm was coming and that the temperature had dropped, but the chilly wind awakened him from his stupor. He decided that a brisk walk would be a good idea, despite the imminent rain, and went off, trying to dissipate his jitters. He felt an incontrollable urge to laugh and eventually a single laugh did leave his lips. He heard a voice from behind him. "That is a very rare sound coming from you these days. I presume that you already met the Lórien riders..."

"Glorfindel!" Lindir turned beaming. "Yes, I have."

Glorfindel stepped closer. "Any news...?"

Lindir laughed again. "No, better than news. Rúmil came."

"Oh, and what are you doing out here then?" Glorfindel asked half teasing, half surprised.

"Erestor put him in his old rooms. You know which," Lindir added grinning. "I thought I should give him some time. You know how he is..."

"Nonsense! Frankly, I cannot understand you. You pine and wilt for him for over ten years and now that you have him, you are out here. You go right inside and start solving this mess right now," Glorfindel ordered, in his customary fashion.

Lindir grinned. "Perhaps you are right."

He ran back inside, escaping the rain that had started to fall hard in thick cold drops, and continued running until he reached the door to his rooms. He knocked at his own door, feeling awkward, but thinking it would be wrong to just barge in.

No answer came and so he opened the door slowly. The door to his bathing room was slightly open and steam came out. He headed there when he glimpsed his desk. He had completely forgotten about it. The letter was still half way between the desktop and the open drawer. Wondering if Rúmil had noticed it at all, he placed the letter in the drawer and shut it firmly.

He made some tea and sat on the bed, waiting. Rúmil came out shortly after, wearing a loose shirt and a pair of leggings. Blushing briefly, Lindir remembered when he left his bath stark naked and took him straight into bed. Rúmil sat in the armchair opposite to the bed, staring at him in silence.

They both started speaking and apologised in the next moment. After a moment of embarrassment, Lindir tried again. "I am so glad that you are here. I was losing hope that I would ever see you sitting there again."

Rúmil shifted uncomfortably on his chair. "I received your letters."

Lindir waited but Rúmil did not add another word. He had always been like that, uttering his short enigmatic sentences and then waiting for him to guess what ever he meant by them. Still, after such a long parting and considering the circumstances, he had hoped for a little more.

He tried again. "But you never answered them. I waited and waited but you never sent a single word. This silence building a wall between us... Your presence here, what does it mean? Am I forgiven? Were you too polite to tell Erestor you wanted naught but distance from me?"

Rúmil looked surprised and then annoyed. "Do you think I would ever let Erestor or anyone else push me into something I did not want? So our problem is the still the same: you do not know me."

Lindir let the words fly. "Maybe I do not know you, but have you ever let me in?" Stopping abruptly, he buried his head in his hands. He sighed and continued. "I am sorry. I have dreamt for the last ten years of our meeting and now I am ruining it. I did not mean to accuse you of anything. All I ask is for your forgiveness. How I wish we could be taken back in time..."

Rúmil smiled briefly. "Lindir, you are too complicated." He rose from the chair and walked to the north window. "I missed Imladris."

Lindir rose too and stepped closer. "I am almost afraid to ask, but have you missed anything or anyone in particular?"

"I have missed a certain song..." A faint smile reached Rúmil's eyes as he turned and took Lindir's hand in his own. "I missed a certain voice."

"Then you shall hear it." Lindir squeezed the hand in his fondly. This first talk was far from perfect but much better than what he had expected. Nevertheless, Rúmil was obviously very tired and they should leave talking for later. "You should sleep a bit before dinner."

"Yes." Still holding Lindir's hand Rúmil moved for the bed. He glanced back in a silent question, to which Lindir nodded. Rúmil settled on his right side as he had always, waiting for Lindir to go around the bed and to take his place, nestled in him, but Lindir poked his back for him to move and asked, "Let me hold you for now."

They both lay in the grey light of the afternoon until the scent of the untouched tea and the music of the wind lulled them into sleep.

Much later, Lindir woke happy. Everything was not all right, but it was much better than on any other day of the last ten years. Rúmil was still deeply asleep. It had grown dark outside and the fire had died. The room was colder. He rose from the bed as quietly as he could, put some more wood on the fireplace and poked it.

He suspected that dinnertime had long passed, so he decided to go to the kitchens and find them something to eat. As he suspected, the kitchen was empty. He could hear the voices and the songs in the Hall of Fire. He gathered some bread, cheese and butter, cold meats and apples, as well as two small pitchers, one with wine and one with water and two glasses, placing all of it on a tray.

Upon his return Rúmil was still asleep, but had turned to his back. Lindir put the tray down at the foot of the bed and shook him softly. Opening his eyes, Rúmil sat up slowly. Lindir sat on the bed and pulled the tray closer to them. "I thought you might be hungry."

"Yes," Rúmil replied, though he reclined against the bedpost and did not move for the food.

Lindir filled a glass of wine and handed it to him. He then poured one for himself. "How long will you stay?" he asked.

Rúmil shrugged. "It all depends on Lord Elrond. We will meet with him in the morning and then see."

"I hope you can stay for the ShadowFest."

Rúmil smiled and reached his hand for the tray. "I have missed real food. Lembas for a fortnight can be a little too much."

Lindir shook his head and smiled too. Rúmil could be very blunt but was totally unable to talk about the things that mattered.

They ate in silence and drank their wine. When they finished, Lindir took the tray to his desk. Then he went to his chest of drawers and took a pair of sleeping pants before heading for the bathroom to change.

There was a feeling of broken intimacy. Before, he would have changed in front of Rúmil without a second thought, or in other occasions with many second thoughts, but now it felt wrong.

Stepping back into his room, he stood watching Rúmil, who had taken off his shirt too and slipped into an old pair of his sleeping pants. "I hope you do not mind that I borrowed these," he said.

"No, not at all." Lindir smiled as he remembered the old days, the time they had lived together. Rúmil would always use something of his, on the few occasions when they slept dressed. He went around the bed and slipped in, casting an inquisitive glance at his lover.

Rúmil slipped under the sheets too and moved closer to him, caressing Lindir's hair tips with his fingers. "You have not sung for me yet."

Lindir smiled. "You have been asleep for most of the time. But in the last few years I have sung little, you know."

"Why?" Rúmil straightened up.

Lindir sighed. That remark had slipped more as an excuse for a possible poor performance than as a confession. He eventually answered, as Rúmil stared at him expectantly. "When you left I sang many songs of sorrow, but slowly I stopped feeling the will to sing at all."

Brushing his face onto Lindir's hair, Rúmil placed his arms around him. "I did not know how you would receive me today. I was afraid that you might have forgotten me or worse, that you would treat me as wrongfully as I have you."

"No!" Lindir exclaimed. "I could never. And I was the one who was wrong..."

Rúmil sighed. "You see Lindir, that little thing you do... I could never do that -- apologising so instantly, not even when I know that I should."

Lindir kept silent. Rúmil sounded so different from what he was.

Rúmil tried again. "It took me a long time to come here and apologise to you."

Lindir could not understand Rúmil. He had been the one who had been wrong. He had been selfish and had ended up saying awful words against the ones that Rúmil loved dearly. He was sure that continuing this conversation would lead to another discussion and that was the last thing he wanted. "Let us sleep," he said, hoping to put and end to it.

Rúmil nodded but added, "We must talk one day."

Lindir had to repress a chuckle at his words, as the thought 'Ah, that is funny, coming from you,' crossed his mind. He turned to put out the candle and lay down. Rúmil held him closer. Soon, all too soon, they had forgotten about sleep. As their hands and lips took their familiar routes, Lindir felt that this was like returning home after a long absence, only to find everything out of place. There was some familiarity in the gestures, the scents, the warmth, but he had this feeling of being out of place and of trying to make everything fit to the image left in his memory. In the darkness of the room, he wished once more for time to travel backward.

He longed for those days of their second meeting; Rúmil had been part of Lady Celebrían's escort when she married Lord Elrond. Lindir had kept the memory of that distant winter as one of his happiest but had not heard from Rúmil since. There had been the terrible war and all those convolutions of their world and chance had never been kind to them since.

Their first meetings had been awkward though very exciting, and soon they had found themselves kissing, whispering, promising and giving in to love. It was so very strange as someone that he had thought of as a memory could have found so quickly a place in his heart, Lindir mused.


	2. Chapter 2

When Lindir woke in the next morning, Rúmil had already left. He had not slept so deeply in a long while and felt refreshed. As if to celebrate his new mood, the skies were clear and blue. The rain in the previous night had been enough to drain the dark clouds and it looked like they would have the last glorious days of the year. He took his time bathing and dressing, trying to plan his day.

He thought he should stop by Erestor's office to see if there was any work for him, but then he remembered that his friend would most certainly be with Lord Elrond and the Lórien brothers. He thought of taking a long walk outside or maybe spending some time taking care of the elflings that usually ran loose around Imladris at this time of year, as if saying goodbye to the clear weather and the sunny days; but then he realized that they would probably want to play by themselves.

Slowly, almost with reluctance, he picked his harp from the corner. He had not played it for quite a while, but had always kept it in sight and regularly cleaned and tuned it.

He tried a single cord. It sounded good, almost inviting; the second one too. He placed it down on the bed and decided to go for breakfast. It seemed too much for him to bear to start playing all of a sudden.

After breakfast, he wandered through the halls, searching for some occupation, but the Last Homely House needed him not, as always.

He had only gone to the harvests for two days this year. Erestor kept asking him for help in the office, but he knew that his friend was trying to protect him. It irritated him, though. He knew Erestor meant well, as well as Glorfindel, but their meddling, their attempts to help made him feel worse, as if it was so clear that he was such a useless incompetent that someone had to take mercy on him. He was not. He was simply listless and he had every intention of returning to his former self. Somehow, he just kept postponing the day when he would wake up and do it: have a full day, just like those he had always had.

Those two days in the fields had felt so good. For a few moments, he almost felt like himself again; not guilty for doing so little, not bored and incompetent; he simply felt clean, devoid of anguish. But then the harvest was over and he was faced again with little to do. Many times he tried to help in the kitchens, but he was superfluous there, he could easily see that. Erestor asked for his help constantly, but he could see that anyone else could do the job just as well and he was not really needed.

He also could see that he was wrong, but that was something in his mind, not his heart. With Rúmil's arrival, he had thought that this lethargy would be instantly lifted from him but although he felt much better in this morning, he still had nothing to do.

Walking through the corridors aimlessly, he decided that he needed to break this way of being. Inhaling deeply, he vowed to himself to make this day different. He ran back to his rooms, before determination left him, and took his harp from the bed. At first, he fumbled around it, trying to tune it perfectly but he had done that recently. Soon, he realized he was once more postponing. He decided to start playing immediately. As no song came up to his mind, he started playing scales and chords. His fingers were not as rusty as he had thought and he felt pleased. He decided to make a further effort and play a song. Not the song that Rúmil wanted though; it was too soon for that and he felt little will to sing. After so much time without practicing a single note, he should sound like a frog in mating season. He began playing the simple tune. It was something that they taught children when they started learning music and it brought him wonderful memories about his father teaching him and about the first years in Imladris when there were so many elflings and he would teach them that same song.

He smiled. It had been a long time since he realized that he was living in the past and that it did him little good, but these memories, unlike those he would normally dwell in, brought him joy.

The day went by slowly, but not as much as in his normal days. He felt silly for having stopped playing. He should have never allowed that sadness to stop him from doing anything, especially playing, which was how he had always defined himself -- he had always thought of himself first as musician before anything else.

Sometime before dinner, he decided to take a walk outside, as Rúmil had not returned yet and he was tired from playing.

Near the stables he saw Glorfindel. "And hello," he said, his chipper tone a surprise to himself. "Can we never find you inside the House?"

Glorfindel turned laughing. "Not until deep Rhîw, you know that." He walked closer to Lindir and gave a friendly pat on his back. "And how are you today?" he asked not without a glint in his eyes.

Lindir chuckled. "I did not know that you have a gossipy side to you, Glorfindel."

"What?" Glorfindel asked with fake indignation. "It was a simple, innocent question..."

"Yes, I know your so called innocence, remember." Lindir laughed, but decided to enlighten his old friend, as it was Glorfindel who had always been closer to him and who had supported him the most in the last few years. "I am fine today," he said.

"Fine? I would have expected great, wonderful, fantastic." Glorfindel's tirade made Lindir chuckle once more.

"All right. I am feeling good today," he conceded.

"I thought that I would see you at the meeting with the Lórien emissaries. Why were you not there?" Glorfindel inquired in a more serious tone.

"Erestor did not call me, and anyway I do not think that there would be any need for me," Lindir replied. "Has the meeting ended already?"

"I do not know. I left at noon. I had had my share by then." Glorfindel's tone was still serious but Lindir dismissed the comment as he knew his friend had always been averse to lengthy meetings.

He was about to reply with a jocose remark when Glorfindel continued. "Why do you say that? Why would you think your help would be so insignificant? You keep talking of yourself in a way that, frankly, disturbs me."

Lindir looked away, into the horizon. This talk was growing tiresome. He knew that Glorfindel cared and meant to help, but these moments were always awkward. He regretted his words. It almost seemed as if he was drawing attention on himself, when all he wanted was to be translucent, barely noticeable.

Glorfindel added, "Remember when Melpomaen worked at the library? Remember how Erestor used to call him 'the assistant from Mordor'?" He snorted at the thought, but proceeded more seriously. "He never once talked as such about you and, trust me, he would if you had deserved it, no matter how good friends you are. You know him."

Lindir smiled unconvinced but agreed so that the subject could be quickly dropped. "Yes, that is true."

Glorfindel was not having one of his most persistent days, and changed the course of the conversation. "I stopped by your room after lunch to challenge you for a ride but I heard you playing and thought it was best not to interrupt. I am glad to see that at least one of the Lórien emissaries is doing some good around here..."

Lindir frowned even as he smiled. Glorfindel always criticised Erestor's sarcastic tirades but he was just as bad. His remark though had piqued his curiosity. "So I am to assume that whatever brought them here is proving to be difficult..."

"Aye, you know how those Lórien folks blame us for... Well you know. They keep making those sly remarks." Glorfindel squinted. "Well, that is, the older brother. It seems that you picked the right one. I always wanted a mute lover. What a pity that Erestor's sharp little tongue has never cut itself out. I would take him on immediately."

Lindir raised an eyebrow. Glorfindel was rarely so open about his interest in Erestor, even in a mere joke. Though he was curious about Rúmil's mission, he could not pass the chance to taunt Glorfindel. "Ah, well... too little is as bad as too much... and you would miss his tongue for other uses..."

Glorfindel let out one of his hearty laughs and patted Lindir's back. "I have not heard you jesting in a long while."

They headed back to the house, talking about the preparations for the ShadowFest and parted with merriment.

Lindir headed back to his rooms and found Rúmil there, sitting in his chair, with his eyes closed. He stepped behind the chair and started massaging Rúmil's shoulders.

"Did you have a busy day, today?" he asked.

His only answer was a growl. After a while, Rúmil took one of his hands and kissed it. "I saw your harp."

Long years of intimacy had taught Lindir how to interpret Rúmil's laconic observations. "I have been practicing a bit."

"Good. I am tired." Lindir felt happy for a brief moment but then he realised that he was once more depending on Rúmil's approval to feel happy. What would become of him when he left again?

He walked to the bed and sat, opposite to Rúmil. "It is almost dinner time. You rest a bit and I will call you when it is time."

"I would rather have a tray like the one from last night, but I suppose we must." Rúmil sighed, weariness obvious in all his words. "Will you sing tonight?"

"No. I need to do a lot more practicing before that," Lindir replied.

"You should have never stopped playing." Rúmil's words were barely a murmur; his head was falling on his shoulder.

Lindir felt tempted to drag him into bed and to sleep curled together, but he knew that Rúmil was supposed to be present at the welcoming dinner to the Lórien emissaries. Letting him rest for a while longer, he sat staring at the window, thinking on his life, their life. They needed to talk and the sooner, the better.

They went to dinner in silence, and then left the gathering as soon as they could. Lindir could feel Orophin's cold gaze on his back. He had hoped that they would talk if Rúmil was not too sleepy, but he kept touching him under the table and when he thought no one could see. It felt almost like when they had met, but the freshness of discovery was gone. Lindir wondered what else might be gone.

Rúmil hungered for him, Lindir thought at a given point that night. He wondered what was behind that fierce lovemaking; had Rúmil missed him that much? Or did he feel the same as him? Did he feel that thing, that despair, if it could be called that? Their gestures, a thousand times rehearsed, seemed different now. Could they be hollow? Lindir felt that their coupling had the poignancy of a farewell, not the joy of a hello. But strangely it felt good too. There was still something there that he knew how to name: there was still love between them, he was sure.

The next day, Rúmil left early, sleep still weighting in his eyes in a most conspicuous way. They had settled with Lord Elrond that the meetings would be shorter than in the previous day and he had told Lindir before he left that he might have the afternoon off.

Lindir stayed in bed for a while longer, but the sight of the blue sky urged him to action. He jumped out of bed, bathed and went for breakfast, taking his harp with him. He wasted no time and went straight to the Hall of Fire. It was still empty. They normally used it for rehearsals during the day, but it was still early for that and he could enjoy quietude for the whole morning. Despite his confusion, he did feel happy. A sort of physical happiness, if there was such a thing. While he played, he wondered if this was a good thing, to be dependent on another to feel happy. Losing Rúmil had been a great shock, and it had come during a time when they all were devastated because of the terrible ordeal that had happened to the Lady Celebrían and to them all.

Once more, he shuddered at the thought of the bitter words that had pervaded Imladris at that time, the laying of blame, the shock that one as luminous could be touched by evil.

Rúmil felt guilt all the time for not being by his lady's side. He vented that guilt and the anger at anyone, at any time. Lindir felt he blamed him too though he never said the words. Rúmil blamed him for making him stay. It was because of him that Rúmil did not escort his lady to Lórien and back. They spent months like this, not talking at first and then not even touching. Rúmil stayed in Imladris after the Lady Celebrían sailed, watching as most of the Lórien elves who had moved to Imladris with Lady Celebrían gradually left for the Havens.

In retrospect, it amazed Lindir that it had taken so long for the storm to break. One day, Rúmil simply walked up to him and told him he was leaving for Lórien, that he needed time for himself.

Lindir frowned and a discordant note left his harp when he came to that point. He did not want to remember that night, that particular conversation, to apply a mild term to what had happened, but the memory flooded him. It stood between them and it always would unless they could talk about it and bury it once and for all.

How did Rúmil remember his words? Lindir had rarely discussed it before, and never with intensity. He had an idea of what he had said, but the precise memory eluded him. Some fragments were clearer, though. At first, he had pleaded with Rúmil and had promised to do whatever it took to make him happy, but Rúmil was determined to leave. Anger built inside him, and at last he shouted, "Then go, run to hide under your precious lady's skirts."

Rúmil had warned him, in a calm, dangerous tone, "Watch how you speak of the lady."

"And now I cannot even speak my mind?" Lindir had asked in the same loud angry tone. "Can I not say what I think when you show me and everyone everyday that you blame us, blame me, for what happened? Try blaming your beloved lady for a change!"

"Blame the lady?!" Rúmil had left his cool behind. He violently threw the chair to the floor. "Blame the lady?!" he repeated indignant.

"Why, if it is Lord Elrond's fault, it should be your lady's too. Is she not almighty? You keep saying how good and powerful she is but she let this happen to her daughter." Lindir knew in that very moment that no other words could be more unfair but they spoke of how he felt.

Rúmil had opened his mouth but closed it without a sound. He took a menacing step towards Lindir and for a moment, it seemed that he meant to hit him, but he stepped back silently and started collecting his belongings, stuffing them haphazardly in a bag. At first Lindir sat there, his head spinning, not believing that this had just happened. But Rúmil's crushing silence and his movement around the room were more than enough confirmation.

He tried. They had to talk more; Rúmil could not leave like that.

"I know that you blame me for you not being there," he said in a low voice. Silence was his answer. Silence tearing him asunder.

He insisted as he watched his life crumbling in mere minutes. "Do you think you could make a difference? Glorfindel was there, for Elbereth's sake!"

No answer from Rúmil. Not a single glance. Only a mute back, busy arms collecting his half of their lives.

Rúmil left without a word. As he neared the door, Lindir took his arm. He expected to be harshly repelled but Rúmil escaped his grip with his fluid grace and did not look back once. He slept in the stables and left alone at first light, leaving no trace of his presence in Imladris behind.

Lindir sighed as he realized that he was once more reliving the past. This could not do him any good. A murmur left his lips, the memory of a song, as his fingers played the notes. He let the song pull him in and committed himself to it. Slowly he raised his voice and the verses were out, echoing in the empty hall. His music was his balm and his voice was much better than he had expected. He left for lunch, pleased, feeling almost like himself, like he had not felt in a long time.

There he met Rúmil and Orophin. There was a free place next to them and he took it. They ate in silence. Rúmil smiled at him frequently but Orophin kept a stern face. He still had no idea what their business in Imladris was, but he feared that any questions might be misinterpreted or seen as rude. In any case, he felt drained, almost taciturn.

Orophin ate quickly and soon left with few words. Rúmil kept staring at Lindir but when he raised his eyes, he quickly averted them and played with bread crumbles.

As Lindir finished his meal, he proposed a walk outside. They strolled in silence through the pastures and then the woods, until they reached the riverbank. Lindir picked a twig and started running it through the water, trying to decide on what to say. They had so much to talk about but now that they had the chance nothing came to mind.

It was Rúmil who surprisingly broke the silence. "I saw the letters. I mean, the ones in the drawer. I was not sure what to think. I came because I thought you had given up on me, but those letters... Why did you not send them? Why did you write them?"

Lindir walked up the riverbank, from the shade into the light. He could feel the dampness slipping into the leather of his shoes, making his toes cold and slippery. "I would have preferred that you had not read them," he finally answered as he threw the twig into the Bruinen and turned to face Rúmil. "I wrote them because I love you," he added reluctantly. "I felt it was pointless and ridiculous sending love letters to one who apparently was not interested in receiving them."

Rúmil closed the distance between them. "It was not. They were not ridiculous, nor are you. Your letters forced me to think over many things, my motives. I wish I had received all of them."

Letting the cold waters of the Bruinen soak his shoes, Lindir thought of the legends of an enchanted river in a far away land that brought sleep and forgetfulness to those who stepped in it. Tempting as it was, it was out of his reach and he had to face this void that was inside and all around. "Rúmil..." he started but was unable to continue.

Rúmil drew him near and nearer, letting his arms envelop him, letting his face be hidden by his hair. He whispered in his ear, "Am I still in time?"

Lindir had waited for ten years for this question. He had defined himself by the absence of Rúmil. And now he had no answer. He wanted to say "Yes" and to mean it, but something was broken and he did not know if there was any chance of recovery, though he wished for it desperately.

He merged into that warmth, inhaling the scents of his lover and of the forest mingled in the cold air. Rúmil did not push the issue any further and they returned to the Last Homely House in silence, a warmer silence than before, though.

* * *

The preparations for the Last Harvest absorbed them in the following week. Everybody participated and the Last Homely House teemed with running maids, joyful elflings, pranksters and all sorts of life. Everybody performed their chores as a game more than a duty.

The late harvests were done and the barns were full; the last apples stored in barrels and the potatoes in the cellars, in layers of sand. Jams were made with the berries the elflings could not eat and some liquors too. Elrond and Erestor were busy making the year's batch of miruvor and collecting the last herbs before the cold settled in.

The animals were gathered in the pastures closer to the stables, ready to be housed when the weather forced it. The surplus animals were slaughtered on the afternoons, when the elflings would be away from the House, playing in the woods or collecting berries and nuts, enjoying the last days of sun. Then their meat was salted and smoked and their skins took to the far edge of the valley to be tanned.

The kitchens exhaled a delicious mix of scents, of fruits and spices, hot cider, roasted chestnuts and cakes made with nuts. The cooks worked uninterruptedly to make delicacies for the great feast on the Last Harvest day. Lindir did little cooking as it was not one of his usual chores and he was not very gifted, but this year he snuck into the kitchen as often as he could to slip out with some small pumpkin cakes, Rúmil's favourites. He delighted in watching the pleasure spreading over Rúmil's face when the first bite of the moist, heavy dough melted in his mouth. He loved the taste of cinnamon in his reward kiss.

He spent the better part of his day in the Hall of Fire with the other musicians, practicing, remembering old songs and old tales to tell. His voice grew stronger at each day and his fingers more agile. He wanted to sing Rúmil a special song, their song. It was a simple harvest song, not related to love or parting or anything of the sort, but it was the song that Lindir sang when he first saw Rúmil in the Hall of Fire many years ago. It was the song that Rúmil had asked him for.

During that week, the elflings were allowed to stay up a bit longer and they gathered in the Hall of Fire with the adults to hear spooky stories. Some ended with a laugh but some made the younger run to their parents and hide in their robes. Lindir loved to watch them, though these days there were not as many elflings as before.

All around the landscape sang its song of beauty, exploding in rich colours before falling asleep. The reds and golds of the falling leaves offered a rich spectacle under the bright light of noon.

The elflings made a racket outside, jumping into the piles of leaves carefully collected by the elves responsible for the garden, running and laughing when they were reprimanded. They kept invading the kitchens and running out with sweet bread and apples in their hands. Sometimes, they insisted they had to help the cooks, which was not very welcomed. They hollowed-out pumpkins and carved them to resemble grotesque faces and lit them with candles placed inside.

Lindir spent as much time as he could with the children, as he had in the past. He knew that Rúmil watched his interest but he had decided that no more would he be so eager to please him and to forget about his own joy in the sweet company of the children.

The only note of discord that Lindir had ever noticed between them had been children. He had always wanted to be a father, but Rúmil had little interest in children and was completely opposed to the idea of adopting. With time, Lindir had forgotten his dream but had kept close to Imladris' elflings, but started suspecting that Rúmil felt jealous of the time he spent with the children.

They danced carefully around each other during that week, trying to avoid the discussion of their problems and to resume their love affair as if they had never once had the slightest of spats.

The Last Harvest fest began at sundown. This was Yavanna's night and as the skies turned dark, the people of Imladris kindled her fires under the stars. These fires were meant to be seen by her as the symbols of their gratitude for the fruits of the season and as the last burst of life before Rhîw covered them with its blanket of sleep.

On that night, all the families lit candles in memory of those gone. They hoped their lights could be seen in Varda's tapestries and in the hearts of those still living but separated by the sea.

Both these fires symbolized many things: they purged so they represented truth; they destroyed the old and dead wood leaving the ashes to fertilize the soil so they represented renewal; they were also a symbol of beauty and a reminder of life for the dark months to come.

Lindir and Rúmil were no different. Orophin joined them in Lindir's room before they left for the feast outside and they lit candles for his parents, as well as for some relatives of the Lórien brothers. Strangely on that night Lindir did not perceive Orophin as hostile for a change, as a very unusual smile lit his face with a hint of compassion.

As they reached the front of the House, they could see that several fires were already lit. They headed for one of the prepared pyres, where they saw their friends and they all proceeded to light it. Orophin's serious presence inhibited the constant quarrels between Glorfindel and Erestor and a joyous feeling took hold of them.

Lindir soon left them and joined the other musicians as they filled the rites. They sang odes to the season and the promise of a new cycle as this one ended.

Later he rejoined his friends and they all headed to the tables with food and drink set inside the Last Homely House. They served themselves and wandered outside to enjoy the fires and the night. Soon more candles started being lit here and there and they too lit a few more.

Among the laughter of the raucous youth, there were many older elves contemplating their lives, the year that had past and remembering the departed. Some wandered off into the woods alone, seeking the needed solitude to attain a higher state of consciousness. Lindir had only once tried this, a long time ago and never again, but this night he needed to reflect, to look into the fire and then to look inside.

As the night went on, the laughter died as the younger elves retired, tired from all their dancing and singing. Lindir had been silent for long hours, despite his role of minstrel. Silently he rose from the ground and walked into the cold, dark night. Rúmil followed him shortly. As Lindir felt his footsteps behind him, he could not help but think on the first night they had gone beyond kisses and intimate caresses. It had been precisely on this night, millennia ago, but it was not what he needed now. He quickened his pace, hoping that Rúmil would understand his need for solitude, but there he was upon him.

Sighing Lindir leaned into a trunk. "I do not mean to hurt you, but I needed some time alone tonight. Surely of all people you can understand that."

"What do you mean by that?" Rúmil asked in that special tone that Lindir had always interpreted as an invitation to silence. This time he decided that he would say precisely what he meant.

"You have always been keen on 'your time alone.' Surely I am entitled to some too?"

Rúmil sighed. "I hoped we could ignore our problems for a while longer."

Lindir gave up on his plans for solitude and reflection, but he wondered if this was not for the best: to finally say everything loud and clear. "If there is good time to settle anything, it is this night," he said.

"Where would you like to start?" Rúmil sounded weary.

"Why not start by your leaving. What happened was a tragedy but before that we were happy, everything was fine between us." Lindir stopped for breath and tried to soften his words. "Why did you leave like that? And why did you return now?" he asked trying to remove all suggestion of blame from his words.

Rúmil moved impatiently and his words were laden with exasperation. "But do you not see? Nothing was fine before. I will not deny that there were some good times but I felt trapped, I felt suffocated here." He lowered his voice as he added, "By you."

Lindir turned his face as if Rúmil had slapped him. It was how he felt. Had he not endured Rúmil's moods, silences, hunting trips that prolonged for months in silence? Had he ever said a word about that distance that Rúmil made a point of creating? He had accepted and loved Rúmil as he was and now this. How unfair, was all he could think. He looked straight in to Rúmil's eyes, wondering how could he have been so wrong about someone.

"Please, please do not look at me like that." Rúmil moved closer and tried to touch Lindir's face, but his lover drew away. He continued trying to explain his motives. "I do not want to hurt you, but the truth is that this routine was killing me slowly. Every little habit that could not be broken without an explanation... If I did, I could see that I hurt you. I was not happy. I love you but I was not happy."

"I do not, cannot understand. I never asked for those explanations. I never questioned you," Lindir replied, indignant and hurt.

"No, you did not. But I could see it in your eyes," Rúmil insisted.

"Maybe what you saw was only your remorse!" Lindir spat. "And if you were so miserable, why did you stay for so long?"

"Because of you." Rúmil tried to kiss Lindir's face but was once more repelled.

Lindir walked to the next tree. At that moment he hated Rúmil, but he had to understand. "Did I not make you feel unhappy? Trapped? Why stay then?"

"Oh, you can never understand me." Rúmil burst. "All I ask is so simple: silence. I want silence. I want to be alone. And I want to come and go without having to explain this as I need the air that I breathe, and I want to see not a shadow of pain in your eyes."

"But do you have that in Lórien?" Lindir asked, his voice restrained.

"More than I did here, yes." He was about to add something when Lindir insisted.

"Why is this so important to you?"

"I do not know," he answered simply. "Maybe I am just being me."

"Maybe you are just being selfish. I often felt left out. I think of our time together as perfection, but I know it was not. Still, it was better than any other time, for me. Because of love. Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think I have forgotten your moods, let us call them? You say you made an effort for me but your anger was barely contained. I prefer to remember the parts when we were happy, when you were in your good days. And what hurt me most was not your need for solitude; it was the lack of trust in me. How you never told me how you felt or what you thought and now you tell me that you did not trust me enough, that you did not think that I could be generous enough to try to understand you."

Lindir was out of breath. All those things he had said... they had always been there of course but he thought that not mentioning them might make them invisible. It did not. He too felt frustrated, but Rúmil with his customary arrogance thought he was the centre of the world. Still, he should have not said any of that. "I am sorry. Please, I am sorry, I did not mean to..."

Rúmil answered in a defeated tone that contradicted his words. "I cannot stand it; honestly, I cannot. You tell me what you feel and then you apologise. Why can you not just say it? It has always been like this. You walking on egg shells and I feeling forced to walk too. I cannot stand this lack of honesty. Are you really sorry for saying the truth?"

Lindir felt defeated too as he answered, "No, I am not. But you did not answer my question: why did you come here? Why have you landed in my bed after ten years of silence and acted as if nothing had happened?"

Rúmil walked to him and kissed him sweetly, softly on the lips. "Because I have missed you. Is that so hard to understand?"

'No,' Lindir thought as he kissed Rúmil in turn.

The air of the night was cold and dew had formed on every surface of the forest, but there was a rite of completion that they had to make. As they stripped, Lindir wondered if this would be the last time that they lay together or the first night of a new, open relationship. Rolling on the ground, he felt the leaves and the strong scent of the earth clinging to their skin and their hair. The night was alive with mystery and promise. There were still many things unsaid, but he felt exhausted. Any further words would have been petty and pointless. This was not.

Near dawn, they returned home. The darkened fires and melted candles offered testimony of the previous night's celebrations. Scattered on the grass were some plates and glasses that had not been returned to their cupboards yet. Silence soothed them for once. Lindir put his arm around Rúmil's shoulders holding him close to his side and then let it slip to his waist. In their room, they threw their wet clothes to the floor and fell into bed naked and wet, with forest debris still clinging to them. Then they let Irmo watch over them and forgot of any tomorrows.

* * *

The sun was high when they woke. They had forgotten to pull the curtains but it was not the bright light shining on every surface of the room that woke them, but an insistent knock on the door.

Lindir crawled out of the tangle of arms and legs and searched frantically for something to cover his nudity while Rúmil groaned from the bed and buried his face on the pillow still warm and with Lindir's scent. Having found a robe in a drawer, he opened the door and found Orophin with what looked like an amused smile upon his face.

"Good morning," he muttered, his mind still clouded with dreams.

Orophin's cryptic grin widened and now Lindir could definitely discern amusement. "Good morning to you too," he replied. "Have you forgotten today's ceremonies?"

"What time is it?" asked Lindir with a surge of alarm seeping into his sleepy voice.

"Near noon." Orophin let out the tiniest laugh as the shock spread through Lindir's face.

"Ay, Elbereth!" Lindir rushed into the bathroom, trying to prepare a quick bath and appear half clean and on time for the saying of the blessings. He heard behind him a faint laugh. 'When had Orophin developed a sense of humour?' he wondered, wishing he had chosen another time to express it.

Orophin was coaxing Rúmil out of the bed. Lindir smiled. Rúmil had never stopped being the baby brother. He wished he had brothers; he almost envied Rúmil, even when Haldir and Orophin patronized him or taunted him with embarrassing childhood stories.

He heard Orophin saying he would wait for them downstairs and shortly after Rúmil appeared in the bathroom and dipped his toes into the tub. "Ay, it is cold!"

"Rúmil, we do not have the time to heat the water," Lindir retorted impatiently.

"I was counting on a lovely warm bath, perhaps with a nice massage." Rúmil's exaggerated pout almost melted Lindir's will, but to his disappointment, Lindir left the tub and disappeared into the room rolled in a towel and still dripping.

"Hurry," Rúmil heard coming from inside the room.

Sighing, he entered the cold water and prepared himself mentally for the next few hours. He had never liked this part of the celebrations. His people celebrated into the night and rested during the whole of Yavanna's day, without further mess. But not the Noldor and the Sindar that lived with them; everything they did had to be elaborated, he thought with a resigned wince as the cold water ran into one of his ears.

Much later into the day, they lay on the forest ground staring at the sky. It felt cold and humid, but the clearing they had found after a long walk seemed the perfect place for a short rest before heading back to the Last Homely House.

Lindir broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "Orophin has been nice these last few days."

"Orophin is always nice," Rúmil answered dryly.

Lindir hesitated for a split second but decided that he would speak his mind. "Is he?"

"He has never done you any wrong as far as I know," Rúmil retorted with an impatient movement of his hand.

"True. But he has never been too friendly either. In fact, I always felt he disapproved of me. And Haldir too."

"Why would you ever think that?" Rúmil rose on an elbow and frowned at Lindir. "Have you at least tried to know them? To know if what you think is really true?"

Realizing that Rúmil had a point Lindir felt a slight pang of guilt. "We have not spent that much time together..."

"My brothers may be reserved but they are not monsters, you know," Rúmil insisted in a calmer tone.

"Nor did I ever say that," Lindir offered promptly raising on an elbow. "I made a simple observation and here we are now, arguing again."

"Your hasty judgement of my brothers strikes me as terribly unfair when they were the ones that convinced me to come when I was so sure that my presence would no longer be welcomed."

Lindir lay back in shock. The image of Haldir and Orophin as his champions was certainly one that had never crossed his mind. He lay there staring vacantly at some point in Rúmil's chest, while questions and hypothesis competed in his mind. Time passed and they did not move. Slowly he realized that it was true: he had let prejudice blind him, and had never tried to prove himself wrong. His evaluation of the words and gestures of Haldir and Orophin seemed now skewed, conditioned by their first meeting and by his own expectations based on his people's ways. Still, he remembered Glorfindel's remark on the hostility Orophin had shown in council.

"But Orophin blames us for the Lady Celebrían's... misfortune, does he not?" he asked tentatively.

"That again." Rúmil sighed. "Yes, I suppose he does. He also blames himself, of course."

"Why do you say 'of course'?" Lindir asked, puzzled.

"Because of father. You never asked about it, so I suppose it does not really interest you..." Rúmil turned his face to stare at the canopy.

"No. Everything about you has always interested me," Lindir replied with all his vehemence for it was his greatest truth.

Raising an eyebrow in doubt Rúmil asked, "Why do you never ask me anything then?"

"I always thought you objected discussing these issues. You are always so cold when they are even slightly approached... It would have been terribly rude and inconsiderate to invade your space and force you to talk of them."

"What?!" Rúmil sat up impatiently. "Surely even you can understand how senseless that is?"

"Oh really? Last night you told me you wanted space, that you needed it, and now you tell me that I am welcomed to invade your privacy at will. What am I supposed to believe? Is there a hidden chart that tells me which subjects are allowed and which I should ignore?"

"There is a difference." Rúmil insisted, but lay back pensively. Maybe Lindir had a point. It had always hurt him that he showed so little interest in his life but maybe he had been the one to push him away. Yet he could not recall one single instance when Lindir had in fact tried. But then again he was always so polite and subtle and restrained. Was he supposed to read his mind, to see questions in silences, nearly imperceptible facial movements and circumlocutory sentences?

After some moments, Lindir took his hand and laced their fingers. "Please tell me about your father and Orophin," he pleaded.

Rúmil pulled their hands nearer to him, laying them over his heart. "It is an old story..." At that moment he had little will to relive a distant but still painful past. He wanted to think about what was to come. Lindir had been so different in these last few days. More open, easier to interpret. They had talked of things that mattered, for a change. He had longed for this intimacy and for the freedom it carried within, far beyond their simpler understanding of before, even if it meant two rows in less than a full day's time. Yet he had never realised that; he had just felt that something was amiss.

Making an effort, so as to keep the silence wall from rebuilding between them, he told Lindir how Orophin had always blamed himself for the hunting accident that had almost cost their father his life. He recited the words as if it were some story that never happened but had been repeated to exhaustion in his mind. It had become that way over the years, something that was never to be discussed.

"They had gone alone deep into the woods and Orophin had been collecting wood for the fire when a wild boar happened on father. Hearing the noises, Orophin ran back to the camp but hesitated before intervening, afraid to hurt father too. Upon their return, the Lady Galadriel took upon her the care of father and he slowly healed, though with a permanent defect in his leg. Orophin, however took much longer to heal. He withdrew from us. Gradually, we came to suspect that not only did he blame himself, but he blamed us too for not being there, though he never said a word. Or maybe that was because we blamed ourselves. Eventually our parents sailed, seeking peace in Aman. That was shortly before we met for the first time. Orophin took the blame upon him for their leaving too. Time had done its part in healing him at length, when the Lady Celebrían was attacked. Then all that guilt came back and now he had more people to blame. And it was the same for me too, I guess. Yes. That is what I did," he mused, as if speaking to himself.

"I am so sorry," Lindir offered, pulling their twined hands to his face.

"It is over now and I am sure that father has no bitterness in his heart, unlike us. I wish I could say the same of the Lady Celebrían."

"I am sorry for them too, but what I meant is that I regret that we never talked before. I meant to ask you so many times but you were always so tense whenever your family was approached. I should have been braver, more persistent." Lindir turned to his side and cupped Rúmil's face with his free hand.

"No, Lindir. Do not take responsibility for this too. It is not yours alone." Rúmil turned to kiss his palm. "We shared so much before, even not speaking of these things. Do you think there is still something left for us?"

Lindir smiled. He did not know the answer to that question. He did not even know what the question meant but he decided not to worry too much. "Yes." His answer was laconic but his smile and the embrace in which he involved Rúmil were eloquent enough.

He knew not what was next but he tried to discard his doubts and live one day at a time. Who knew what the future would hold? He dreamt as in many years he had not; of him and Rúmil, apart but closer than before.

Rúmil left two days later with Orophin. It was the last good day of the year. From then on, the north wind started blowing and the heavy rains and grey days took over. This was the year dying, but everywhere Lindir saw the promise of renewal. Life would be rich and full, hard as it was at night when he lay alone. Maybe one day they could live together once more. But now they needed time to learn of each other anew.

 

_Finis  
March 2005_

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest gratitude goes to alexcat who had the patience and the kindness to beta read this piece and give me precious suggestions, as well as to larienelengasse who went well beyond advising a friend and ended up beta reading it too and gracing me with some lovely words of encouragement. Any remaining mistakes are solely mine.
> 
> Written for the Lindir Secret Friend Exchange, for Genesis Grey, who asked no dwarves or hobbits romantically involved and if possible, a pairing. As we were free to approach Halloween as we wanted, I chose to show a harvest feast and to use the traditional meaning of Halloween as an illustration, almost a metaphor for their relationship. Many thanks to Patricia Pleasant, who once more enlightened me with her knowledge and gave me precious help in sorting out several details related to canon issues and to The Gwillion for her portraits of Rúmil and Lindir which were particularly inspiring and can be found at [The Council of Elrond](http://www.councilofelrond.com/).
> 
> Firith -- Season that follows Iavas (Autumn) and precedes Rhîw (Winter), and where Halloween would fall.
> 
> Rhîw -- Winter.
> 
> The theme of ridiculous love letters comes from a poem (Love Letters) by Álvaro de Campos (Fernando Pessoa).
> 
> Being a catholic raised southern European, I had to do some research on Halloween to be able to write this as our celebrations are quite different. The two main sites I used were <http://www.witchvox.com/holidays/samhain/> and <http://www.mythinglinks.org/Samhain.html>.
> 
> Some new world plant species are mentioned. If Tolkien had no problems with Sam's 'taters', I certainly won't have either. I don't see Middle-earth as England or continental Europe and Aman as the Americas so, for me, the discussion of which species are present in Middle-earth based on the 'New World' argument is silly because even if the parallelism would apply, there would have been enough travelling to get across at least some of the most significant agricultural species.


End file.
